MORE THAN PLAYERS are gambling on a New Orleansfloating casino, the Queen of New Orleans,
whose slot machines buzzed away on its inauguralrun last February.Hopingto capitalizefur
ther on the city's tourist hordes, the state legislatureauthorized15 such vessels, along with an onshore
casino, being billed as the world's largest. There should be no shortage of high rollers. Of eight million
visitors last year, 1.5 million were conventioneers like these meeting in the Aquarium of the Americas.
Carnival season, culminating on Mardi
Gras, starts on Twelfth Night, January 6, and
dominates New Orleans for weeks. It draws
300,000 visitors and offers more than 60 elabo
rate parades with floats and marching bands,
each financed by dues-paying private krewes,
or clubs. Crowds line parade routes, shout
ing, "Throw me something, mister!" Masked
krewe members toss strings of beads, alumi
num doubloons, plastic cups, and other favors
from the floats. Families prop children up on
special ladders and eat Popeye's fried chicken.
And for the city, Carnival now generates more
than half a billion dollars in spending and
nearly 11 million dollars in revenues.
A dozen older krewes stage bal masques
with debutantes and mythical themes, and the
Times-Picayune is thick with photographs of
kings, queens, courts, and breathless descrip
tions of their tableau rituals. But their old-line
traditions of secrecy and privacy have been
challenged by the city, which ruled in 1992
that private clubs must open membership to
minorities or they may not use city services,
like streets. In protest, the oldest, most estab
lishment white krewes- Comus, Momus, and
Proteus-have canceled their parades.
Outraged purists see a meddlesome public
hand destroying what it does not understand.
George Schmidt, artist, self-styled elitist,
and a founder of the retro-1920s New Levia
than Oriental Foxtrot Orchestra, sees no less
than the end of Catholic civilization. "The big
sneaky thing about New Orleans is that it's
being taken over by southern Protestants," he
laments. "They have taken the linchpin out of
the city's spirit-taken it and destroyed it.
Thrown it away! Puritans! The city has lost
its identity."
Beau Bassich, director of New Orleans City
Park and member of several old-line krewes,
doubts they will ever parade again: "Some
krewes have waiting lists of 80 to 90 proposals
for membership. Many are sons and sons
in-law and friends. There's a handwritten
book in one organization that has people's
New Orleans
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